A Well Intentioned Curse
by Chelley Murdock
Summary: There's a new law that threatens to derail any chance Hermione has for happiness - but someone has levied a curse to derail the Ministry's law
1. Chapter 1

_This is likely a somewhat subtle twist with hints of the old Marriage Law as a backdrop. Mainly I'm using it as a plot bunny to get Severus a new girlfriend. Maybe if he had one he wouldn't be so disagreeable._

_Completely AU - post war - no dead twin - I think I'll even let Sirius be alive just because he's such a nice character to play with._

_Enjoy._

* * *

Hermione did not smile, though it was her wedding day. Gregory Goyle was smiling enough for both of them. Well, leering if the truth were to be told. He had gotten his petition in first, and since all the Weasley boys had already been wed to others and Harry wed to Ginny, there was no one she trusted to challenge him.

She could practically hear Goyle's filthy, disgusting fantasies as the minister presided over their vows. It wasn't needful that she speak her agreement. The new law ensured that she had no choice to but to become Mrs. Gregory Goyle.

She shivered, but it was only partly from the sorrow and disgust she felt. The rest of it was because the pleasant late spring day of their outdoor wedding had turned suddenly chill. Served the Goyles right if the elaborate party they had come up with was turned to rubbish because of an unexpected turn in the weather.

The minister filled the wedding cup, casting a charm over the wine that was meant to ensure fertility and a long, happy marriage. What a laugh. Goyle took it up and drink from the cup, his piggish eyes glittering at her over the cup's silver rim. He swallowed and wiped errant drops of wine from his mouth with the sleeve of his dress robes before shoving it in her direction.

The wind blew with increased ferocity as she reached for the cup. The sky above her was darkening but she barely noticed as she was distracted when the wind sent a gust so strong that it knocked the aged minister onto his plump arse, tore down the pavilion sheltering them and ripped the chalice from her hand, splashing the charmed wine onto the green grass.

"Dammit, Granger!" Goyle's face twisted into a snarl. "You'll not ruin this! You're mine by law!"

Hermione blinked at the stained grass then looked up and blinked at Goyle. His face was purpling in anger and she thought he was reaching to throttle her when there was a loud crack of sound from directly above them. She felt herself flung back by a flash of light, the breath knocked from her lungs as she landed. She heard nothing but a ringing in her ears as she tried to draw breath into her lungs again. She was barely aware of someone trying to help her up into a seated position but once she got upright she saw Goyle's rotund, trollish mum sprawled over his unmoving form.

Gregory Goyle had been struck dead.

The Ministry cleared her of any wrongdoing. After all, everyone had been there. There had been no way she could have called up that storm or called down that lightning bolt to slay her bridegroom. It was a horrible stroke of misfortune, for Hermione's wedding day to have been ruined in such a tragic fashion.

Besides, the other Purebloods gave her a whole two days to grieve before another petition was filed. This time Theodore Knott thought that he would claim the Greatest Witch of the Age for his own.

Knott was less of a gentleman than Goyle. No, seriously, compared to Knott, Goyle was an angel. Gregory Goyle had been content until their wedding night to touch her. Knott believed that their betrothal gave him the right to manhandle her whenever the urge struck him. He wasn't sanctioned to go so far as rape, so he held short of that, but he had no qualms about shoving her against any nearby wall to stick his tongue down her throat or to tell her what fine plans he had in store for their wedding night.

Hermione would have never imagined she would miss Goyle and how he kept a cold, aloof distance from her.

They had been touring the Helga Hufflepuff Menagerie, some public affairs requirement the current Minister had insisted she be present for. It had only been five days before her wedding to Knott was to take place. She had managed to slip away from him to get a breath of air not tainted by his presence and was on the other side of the property when the thestrals had broken free of their enclosure and had torn her fiancé apart.

The Ministry had checked her wand but found no spells which could explain it. They checked the thestrals and their enclosure for tampering and found nothing. In spite of the screeching and demands of Livonia Knott, there was no proof that Hermione Granger had murdered her son.

This time it was a good three months before another petition was filed.

Adrian Pucey this time, against the vehement advice of his close friends and family. Perhaps he thought himself safe. He had taken advantage of the new law already and his Muggleborn wife had, tragically, died during their honeymoon. Perhaps he thought he could do in Hermione before she had a chance to do in him.

He wasn't as grabby as Knott. He kept his harassment somewhat more subtle. A smoldering gaze. Licking his lips when she caught him looking at her direction. Running his eyes over her, clearly imagining what she looked like unclothed. Those eyes alone made her feel unclean, perhaps because she knew they were out of cruelty rather than from any true affection. Goyle may have been happy to have her as his bride because it was likely the only way he'd every have sex. Knott may have been open about his lusts and his plans to keep her pressed to the mattress whenever the chance presented itself (and very vocal about how often he intended to keep her pregnant), but Pucey scared the hell out of her.

So she wasn't at all upset when he choked to death. On a chicken bone no less. I mean, seriously, what fool adult male manages to choke on a chicken bone?

Again, they could not prove it was Hermione. Because it wasn't Hermione. It was never Hermione. The Puceys had insisted on bringing in their own expert and what he had determined shocked them all.

"I'm… what?"

"Cursed, Miss Granger. Someone has levied a rather powerful curse on you. One that specifically targets any man intended to do you harm in a… uhm… sexual fashion… or intends to make you do something against your will that would lead to such harm."

She blinked. "As in, being forced into a marriage I do not want and thus being forced to allow myself to be pawed and groped by a man who disgusts me. That sort of thing?"

She heard Mrs. Pucey's sharp intake of breath. The 'expert' gave an uncomfortable cough before answering. "Yes, that is precisely the sort of thing. Do you know anyone who may have levied such a curse? Your friends from the war, perhaps?"

Hermione glared at him. "You think one of _my_ friends would curse me?"

"Only out of a misguided sense to protect you, of course. That does seem to be the purpose of it."

"What you are describing sounds like Dark Magic to me, Sir. I assure you, none of my crowd would sink so low as to tamper with such a thing."

"Of course. I mean no offense." He was acting rather skittish. It took only a second for her to puzzle out way. He wasn't entirely sure he was certain how the curse worked, and thus was afraid he might become a target of it. "I shall have to report this to the Ministry, of course. They will need to know that an exception should be made in your case regarding the laws." He swallowed. "There will likely be an inquiry."

"I'm certain that there will be." She drew in a breath. "Now, if you will all excuse me, it has been a very trying year. I thank you, Sir, for bringing this matter to my attention. It's good to finally understand what's going on." The wizard bowed. She saw the Puceys rise in her peripheral vision. The trio left, allowing her peace at last.

Hermione waited until she was alone to allow herself to start trembling. She'd wanted to fall apart the moment she had heard she was cursed, but had held it in for the sake of appearance. Now she let herself sink down into one of her cushioned chairs before the hearth.

Cursed. She was cursed. But by whom?

And had they done it to help or to harm?

"How many times are you going to check the same wands?"

"Until we discover who is behind this." The Auror was checking the Weasley Twins' wands for what had to be the fourth time. All of the Weasley's wands had been checked, as had the wands of their spouses. The Potters had been checked, as well as all the staff at Hogwarts and a good many of the Aurors who had been excluded from the investigation due to their past and present friendships with Miss Granger.

"None of us did this, Mate." George glared at the reedy looking wizard. "Why don't you go check some Death Eater wands?"

"There are no true Death Eaters left free, Mr. Weasley. Only those who were forced by blackmail or spell."

Fred gave a snort. "Right, Mate. No wonder the Ministry couldn't keep us safe. Gullible twits, the lot of you."

The Auror sputtered indignantly. "Now see here!"

"You see here!" George glared at the man. "If any of us had cast that curse then you would have found it in our wands the first go round. That you didn't means we didn't do it. We wouldn't curse Hermione, even if we knew how."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "We would have just waited until after the wedding night and made her a widow, that way she'd inherit the bastard's money."

"What he said."

The Auror fell silent, his mouth gaping at the pair of them. Then, perhaps realizing they were right or figuring he'd be safer elsewhere, he handed their wands back to them and bade them good day.

Later that night what was left of the Order met at the Grangers' home. Hermione had moved in with her parents during the furor following her second fiancé's death. She'd remained there during her third engagement and had only gone back to her flat when she had to meet with her potential in-laws. Now she was there because there was still a part of her that wanted the comfort only her parents could give her during this time.

Molly and Arthur were there, alone with Remus and Dora. Shacklebolt, Ron, Harry and Sirius were present as well. To her surprise, McGonagall and Snape showed up just after desert.

Dora was shaking her head. "The Ministry has tested the wands of everyone they think may go to such extremes to protect you. They also have checked the wands of those who are the most vocal proponents against the new law, which is pretty much every halfblood or muggleborn witch in the United Kingdom. They can't find anyone who they can prove cast the curse."

"Maybe a potion someone slipped her?" Ron looked over to Snape. "Is there such a thing?"

"Not that I am aware, and the Ministry is wasting its time."

Hermione tilted her head curiously. "How so?"

"A curse of this nature would have to be cast by a blood relation. Your blood relation to be exact."

"That's not possible. I'm the only witch in my family."

"Not necessarily a witch, though a Muggle couldn't pull it off." Snape looked at Hermione's parents. "Are either of you aware of anything or anyone else in your families that might not be entirely human?" He paused, his eyes locking on the face of Helen Granger. Her face had gone deathly white. "Mrs. Granger?"

Hermione looked at her mother, shocked by the odd expression on her face. "Mum? What is it?"

Helen shook her head. "No, it's not possible. She wouldn't even be aware Hermione existed."

Everyone shared looks of confusion and awareness. Hermione frowned. "Mum, who wouldn't be aware I existed?"

Helen's eyes began to tear, her lip trembling. John grew alarmed, his arm going around his wife's shoulders. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

Helen shook her head, her eyes shutting tightly. "I can't tell you. It's… I can't say it." She began to sob, the sound pained and deep.

"Mum, what's wrong!" Hermione moved from her chair to the floor by her mother's side. She looked alarmed. "It's all right. You can tell us."

"I can't! I can't talk about it. It's… disgusting!" Her voice was teetering on becoming a wail.

Snape walked over to loom over the woman. "Mrs. Granger, someone has cursed your daughter and that curse is killing people. Granted, the three men killed so far likely had it coming, but this law is still in place and it won't take long before some fool decides to try his luck. You need to tell us what you suspect."

Helen took several short, tear-filled gasps, her eyes looking to her husband. 'I'm so sorry, John. I never wanted to tell you."

"Tell me what, Darling?"

"That… I had another child. Before Hermione. A daughter." The whole dining room fell silent. Hermione gaped at her mum. "It… was rape. But he… it… wasn't human."

Helen broke off, her breath coming in shallow gasps a bit longer until she managed to calm herself enough to speak again. "I… it was when I was married to Michael. Right out of college. You didn't know of this Hermione, because I don't talk about it. He… came home early one day. We'd been trying to have a baby and I thought nothing of it. The… the sex was incredible. Amazing. Then the door to the bedroom flung open and… Michael came in. The person on top of me had his face, his voice… but he wasn't Michael."

Hermione heard an 'oh dear' that sounded like Molly. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her mother. "Who was it?"

"Not who. 'What'. There was a priest not far on Michael's heels. He'd fought earlier with an incubus, but the creature slipped away. He'd wounded it and had been tracking it. The creature.. It needed to feed. To regain its energy. I apparently made a nice target; young, married and trying to conceive so sex wouldn't be a problem. It almost killed me. I had hardly any strength left in me by the time Michael and the priest showed up. It fled the scene and with me near death, the priest let it go to tend to me."

"And… you conceived."

Helen nodded. "I didn't know if the father was my husband or the demon. I carried to term and we brought the infant to be baptized. The holy water… it burned her. That's how we knew who her father was." Another sob ripped from her. "We told the priests to keep her. I couldn't bear to look at her, knowing where she came from. And Michael… it was the last straw for him. He was having enough trouble dealing with the rape; he had only held out hoping the baby was his. He left me after that. Was quite civil about it. Gave me half of all our funds and didn't challenge me for the house. Just… left."

Helen looked at her husband, her expression one of shame and sorrow. "I couldn't tell you. I was so ashamed. I felt… dirty. Like I was tainted somehow."

"You were."

Hermoine looked up at Snape. "Professor!"

Snape leveled a gaze at her. "She was tainted, Miss granger. We also now know how you came to be a witch of such great power and potential. It isn't often that the victim of an incubus survives, but if she does there is a taint that remains with her always. History has shown that future offspring of such a survivor are born magical. It doesn't make you any less of a witch and, indeed, there is a rather unpopular but possibly accurate theory that some of the more powerful pureblood lines were actually founded by such offspring."

John looked up at Snape, pulling his wife into his arms to comfort her as she cried. "You mean to say that Hermione's magic is because my wife was nearly killed by… some…" words failed him.

"Demon, Mr. Granger. And it also explains who would have the power to curse Hermione in such a fashion. Mrs. Granger obviously wasn't aware how to tap into the demon taint, but a half-demon could easily manage the curse."

Helen shook her head, sitting up. "But how could she? She wouldn't know about Hermione. She was only a few days old when we left her with the clergy."

"She would have been aware of you, Mrs. Granger." Helen's face blanched again. "The child would always be aware of you. She would have known when you remarried and she would have known when you had another child."

"So this would be her… acting out? Jealousy against Hermione?"

Snape frowned. "No. If she wanted to be malicious, she would have simply killed Miss Granger. A curse of this nature is meant to protect, not harm. And to protect aggressively; she doesn't care what happens to the men as long as her sister is not ill-treated."

It was a lot to take in. No one was certain what to say about it. It took a moment before Hermione managed to think of something. "So… what do we do about it?"

"Clearly, Miss Granger, we find your sister. She's the only one who can life the curse, if we can convince her to do so."

"And if she refuses?"

"In that case, Miss Granger, let's hope the Ministry remembers not to send any other would-be bride grooms your way."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione hadn't known that her mother was once a devout Catholic. She supposed if she had been raped by a demon and had given birth to a half-demon child she might lose some of her faith as well.

From the outside Our Lady of the Assumption didn't break with the façade of the rest of the buildings snugged close to it. Inside, however, it was quite lovely. Hermione and Severus were respectful because there was a sort of presence to the building that demanded such behavior. They even made sure to be fifteen minutes early for their meeting with Father Gates.

"Miss Granger. Mr. Snape. Please, make yourselves comfortable." The father motioned to the chairs before his desk. "You said you needed to meet with me regarding an orphan surrendered to the church?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes, Father. I'm searching for my sister. Well, half-sister. I only just learned of her this week."

The priest looked over the tops of his wire-rimmed glasses at her. "Learned from whom, Miss Granger?"

"My mother, Sir. She hadn't told anyone. My sister was the product of a rape, and mother wasn't able to get past that. She gave the child up at her baptism here, approximately three days after her birth."

"I see." The father looked over at Snape. "And may I inquire as to your interest in this matter, Sir?"

"I am Miss Granger's former professor and mentor, here for moral support." And here to hex the creature if she attacked, but there was no reason to let the father know about that part of it.

"I see." The priest looked back to Hermione. "Do you know the date and name of the child?"

"Yes sir. She should have been listed as Denise Blackwell. Date of birth would be May 12th, 1968 and her baptismal date was May 15th of the same year."

"My, that was some time ago. I wasn't here in '68, but Sister Mary Augustine was. She was in charge of getting children who fell to being wards of the Church to their final destination." He peered at a clock on the far wall. "She should be wrapping up with kitchens about now. She heads our efforts to feed the needy."

With directions on how to navigate from the main part of the church to the kitchens, Hermione and Severus sought out Sister Mary Augustine. She looked to be about ten to fifteen years older that the Grangers and shockingly thin. Her face, however, seemed kind as she handed a bundle of leftover food to a young girl wearing what had to be a third or fourth hand dress. The child hugged the woman and hurried off.

"Sister Mary Augustine?"

"Yes?"

Hermione put on her friendly smile and extended hand. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is my mentor, Severus Snape. Father Gates said we should speak to you about a child given over to the church in May of 1968."

The sister's brows went up. "For what purpose, may I ask?"

"Family reasons. I recently learned I have a half-sister my mother left here and I'm trying to find her."

The nun's face took on an understanding, sympathetic expression. "I see. That was a long time ago. I'm not certain how much use I could be. Do you remember the name?"

"Denise Blackwell."

As though someone flipped a light switch, all the kindness and warmth left the sister's face. "No."

Hermione blinked. "No? Sister, it is imperative that I find Denise."

"No, it is imperative that you forget you ever heard of her, Miss Granger. Nothing good can come from walking down that path."

The sister turned to walk away, but Hermione placed herself in the woman's path. "I do need to find her. For medical reasons."

"There is nothing that would be in that creature you would want inside yourself. Besides, the child died. Caught pneumonia that winter."

Clearly being subtle wasn't going to get them anywhere. Severus slipped his wand from inside the lining of the stylish Muggle suit Hermione had helped him find and flicked it towards the nearby door to shut all three of them away from the rest of the building. A silencing charm made sure they would not be overhead. He wasn't subtle about either action, wanting the sister to be aware of what she was dealing with.

"Now, let us try this again. The child did not die, of this we are quite certain. Miss Granger would not be in the predicament she currently finds herself facing were her sister deceased."

"Witchcraft! You do such things in this place?" The sister was growing furious.

"Not by choice. I would not throw stones, considering you just lied. I believe that is actually one of The Ten Commandments, is it not? On the other hand, there is some scholarly debate as to whether or not 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live' is actually a mistranslation of the original intent of the verse. Let us try this again. Where would we find the person born as Denise Blackwell?"

Sister Mary Augustine lifted her chin in a defiant gesture, her lips pressed together.

Snape arched a brow and lifted his wand again. "Very well."

"No!" Hermione's voice was a harsh whisper as she gripped his wrist. "You can't hex a nun inside a church!"

"We need to locate your sister, Miss Granger, before someone else dies."

"Put that down!" She shoved herself between Snape and the sister. Mary Augustine's eyes were narrowed and focused on her.

"Someone died?"

Hermione winced. "Three someones, actually. I… it's complicated, but I was bullied into three different relationships in which I was not a willing participant. All three of the young men are now dead. When we looked into matters, it turned out that I've been cursed and it was the cursed that killed them."

"Knott being torn apart by wild beasts was my personal favorite, though Goyle being struck down by lightning on your wedding day was quite spectacular."

Hermione kicked him, her eyes not leaving the sister's face. "The nature of the curse, Severus says it could only have come from a blood relative. That's when my mother admitted she had another child before me. I know what Denise is, Sister. That's how I know it had to have been she who cursed me."

The sister seemed to be weighing the matter carefully. "You are being truthful with me." It was a statement, not a question. "What do you think is the nature of the curse?"

"As near as we can tell, it kills anyone who attempts to force me into an intimate relationship. It may possibly kill a would-be rapist as well, though thankfully I have not been faced with that particular nightmare."

Mary Augustine took in a breath, her eyes closing briefly as she took a step back from them. "That… would sound like her. She always knew she was the product of such an assault. For a time she was housed with sisters who cared for women who were victimized in much the same way. We couldn't leave her there long. It made her… potentially violent."

Severus resheathed his wand. "Housed with sisters?"

"We couldn't very well put that creature with decent children. We kept her mainly in isolated cloisters, especially when she reached adolescence. Whether she intended it or not, her unclean nature would entice weaker males."

Hermione felt some hope. "Where is she now?"

"I have no idea." The sister faced them again. "She left when she came of age. There were those who wanted to tuck her away somewhere, perhaps in a mental hospital or dungeon, but the Church has grown somewhat soft over the decades. She had committed no crime, she wasn't mad, so it was felt that we could not force her to remain. She was allowed to leave holy ground and menace the public at large."

Damn. "What country was she in when she left?"

"I believe she was in the Southern part of France at the time, but she could be anywhere by now." Sister Mary Augustine gave them both a disdainful look. "I wish you luck in finding a solution to your problem, Miss Granger, but if this person is an indication of the company you keep I fear I should be more concerned with the state of your soul. Good day."

* * *

"She could be anywhere by now."

"Quite possibly."

"And I got the definite impression that Sister Mary Augustine did not like her."

"Your sister is half demon, Miss Granger. At the very least the clergy would be inclined to be cautious about her."

Hermione pulled her cardigan a little more snuggly about her. "I can't believe I reached adulthood without knowing I had an older sibling."

"You mustn't think of her like that, Miss Granger. The two of you have never met face-to-face, that you know of. Blood may link you, but your hardly siblings. We'd be better served thinking of this logically."

She looked over at him, curious. "Your thoughts?"

"Why did your sister perform this particular type of curse? The sister said she had difficulties with the idea of sexual assault, but you don't hex someone with an anti-rape curse out of nowhere."

"Something had to set her off. Something that would have pointed her in my direction." Hermione's mind tumbled over the possibilities. "She knows about the Wizarding community. She knows about the Marriage Law, that Muggleborns like me are being forced into unwanted unions."

"And thus would be subjected to legalized rape. If she is truly that set against women being victimized then knowing that such a thing is happening would not set well with her. It just so happens that she has the ability to protect you in particular."

"By hexing me with a curse that kills anyone trying to take advantage of the law." She shook her head. "What a loving sibling." Hermione sat down on a park bench situated between two trees. "What coverage has the law had in the press outside of the UK?"

"Hardly any, other than those stories that opine the Ministry has gone insane." Snape's eyes flicked over the random faces on the street. "The most likely answer is that she's here. She returned to England after leaving the Church's protection."

"Protection?"

"A half-demon child left on its own would have been snapped up by any number of unsavory characters. Keeping her on holy ground would have masked her presence and kept her safe until she was grown. After that, she should have learned how to take care of herself fairly quickly."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." She was about to say something else when an owl landed on the back of the bench, startling her. She stared as it dropped an all too familiar cream-colored envelope next to her. "Oh, they can't be serious." Severus bit out an oath as she opened the envelope. "Oh, lovely. Just lovely."

"And the next victim is?"

Hermione flipped the letter around. "Draco Malfoy."

* * *

"Granger! I hadn't expected you to be so eager about this."

"Don't flatter yourself, Draco. I'm here to save your life." Hermione barely noticed when Severus took her cardigan and handed it, along with his jacket, to a waiting house elf. "Withdraw your petition."

Draco reached the bottom of the staircase and leaned back against the bannister. He folded his arms and looked at her. "No."

"You idiot! You've already lost three of your friends. Are you that eager to join them?"

"Are you that certain I can't convince you to be a willing participant?"

She blinked, pulled up short by that comment. "What?"

Snape glared at the younger Malfoy. "Where is she?"

Draco smiled at him. "The study."

"Where's who?" Hermione looked between the two men, her brow furrowed. Snape shot Draco and annoyed look and turned to walk further into the house.

"The only other person who would have figured it out this quickly."

Draco motioned for Hermione to follow Severus before taking up the spot behind her. The three of them went to the spacious study of Malfoy Manner to find Narcissa leaning over her husband's desk with a map of England spread out before her.

"I take it you've been busy, Narcissa."

"Quite. While the Ministry was checking, rechecking and yet again checking the wands of a multitude of people who would never even think of something like this, I was figuring out what the real problem was."

"And in the meantime you've offered up your son as a lamb for slaughter."

"Oh, that was all Draco. He didn't want to risk the curse being lifted and someone else putting in a petition first."

"And Lucius agreed to this?"

Narcissa Malfoy looked up from the map and gave Severus a smug little smile. "Once I explained the curse and how it would have come to pass. He didn't believe me at first, but I took him along when I questioned that stuffy nun."

"Whom you obliviated afterwards."

"Of course I did. Couldn't very well have her blabbing to anyone else. How did you get her to talk?"

"She fears for Miss Granger's soul."

"Excuse me." Hermione felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. "How, exactly, does my having a half-demon half-sister who curses me so that I cannot be forced into sexual relations change Mr. Malfoy's opinions of me?"

"Do you recall what I said about the theory some hold that some of the pureblood lines were started by people such as yourself?"

"Yes."

Narcissa's smile switched to Hermione. "Those of us who hold with that theory would not classify you as 'Muggleborn', Miss Granger. You are something quite special." She gave a shrug. "Were you male you would be seen as the start of a new bloodline. Since you are female you are the best way to strengthen an existing one. Your children will be extraordinary, just as you are extraordinary. The same goes for their children and for the generations to follow for some time."

Hermione felt Draco lean in closer so that he could speak softly into her ear. "And it means that I can finally pursue you without fear that someone will kill us both because of it. Law or not, there is still quite a bit of bigotry out there."

She pulled away from Draco, giving him a firm glare over her shoulder. "Going to claim that you've been harboring some deep affection for me all this time?"

"Oh, of course not. Only for the past few years. I had to grow up enough to pull my head out of my arse to realize what was right in front of me all this time."

"My son's petition is genuine, Dear. He's not doing this out of some twisted game of revenge or desperation because no one else would have him. He truly does want you." Narcissa pulled a slender box out of one of the desk drawers. "Could you come here, please?"

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

The elegant woman extracted a sharp blade from the box. "I will need a bit of your blood to work the charm. It should narrow down where we should be looking for your errant sibling."

Hermione looked from Narcissa to Severus. The wizard flexed his shoulders with a bit of embarrassed discomfort. "It isn't something I have knowledge of, Miss Granger. I never cared to dabble in demonology."

"But it's a staple for girls in the Black family. Come come." Narcissa's smile was still friendly and welcoming as she held a hand out to Hermione. She didn't fuss when the girl checked again with Severus before approaching. "This will sting just a bit."

The cut was quick, and the blade was sharp enough that it felt akin to a minor papercut. Hermione only flinched a little, but admitted to herself that it wasn't as bad as she had feared. The older witch coaxed bright red blood to well up onto the surface of her hand before running the flat of the blade along the skin to scoop it onto the metal. Hermione pulled her hand back and watched as Narcissa held the blade over the map and chanted softly under her breath. After a moment the blood on the knife started to slide over the metal on its own until it cascaded off in a thin stream to float down to the map and land in a circle over London.

Narcissa repeated the process with a map of London itself, then again with a smaller map of just the particular section of London the previous try had indicated. The final result was a blood circle around one of the less savory areas of London. Certainly not a place Hermione would go of her own accord.

"Are you certain it worked?"

"Quite certain, Dear. Your sister has set up her hunting grounds. See how sharply defined the edge of the circle is? That is an indication that she's been there for a while. Months at the very least. Perhaps over a year. If she were newly arrived your blood would have flattened out and smudged."

"Hunting grounds?"

"Her father was an incubus, was he not?"

"That's what Mother was told."

"Such a creature isn't going to sire unicorns, Hermione. Your sister is a succubus. This area is where she's settled down and this is where she would find the men she lures into her web, so to speak. She'll be the spider, and they are her flies."

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine. She hadn't wanted to think about that part. "So… we go find her."

"No, Miss Granger. I am going to go find her."

Hermione lokoed back at Snape. "What makes you think she'll listen to you? Wizards are trying to force me into marriage. Why would she trust a wizard?"

"And why would she talk to you anyway, Severus. You'll need to take her with you. Once she's in the creature's hunting zone it's likely her sister will smell her. She'll come to see why Hermione is there."

"Your plan is that I use her for bait?"

"Only long enough to lure the girl out. Take them both. Draco can bring Hermione safely out while you deal with the creature."

"So your son takes off with his new fiancé while I tangle with a succubus."

Narcissa tilted her head to one side, her mouth lifting up at one corner. "Why, Severus… are you afraid she won't like you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Every large city has one of "those" places. The seedier side of town. The place where law enforcement even hesitates to enter because it is quite possibly they won't make it out alive. If you want drugs to take the edge off, you'll find a dealer on just about every corner, right next to the prostitute who would be more than happy to get you off for a few bills. Clever people don't wear anything nice or expensive in places such as this because there was likely someone who would kill you over your shoes alone.

Hermione pulled her cardigan around her more tightly. With the sun having gone down and the shadows cast by the buildings the evening was quite cool. Had she known they were going to be trolling around the city all day she would have brought a coat instead of just a sweater. She jumped a bit when the warmth of quality merino wool settled about her shoulders.

"Relax, Hermione. You're practically screaming 'victim'." Draco rubbed his hands up and down her arms a few times. He looked unfazed by the chill even though he had just given her his cloak.

Hermione frowned. "Isn't that sort of the idea? Aren't I supposed to be the poor, mistreated girl so that Denise comes to rescue me from your clutches?"

"Relax a bit, Sweetheart. You might find my clutches are rather comfortable."

"Mr. Malfoy, kindly leave your wooing for a time when we are not hunting demons."

"Of course, Severus. Forgot myself for a moment there."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled the cloak about her more snuggly. The spicy scent of Draco's cologne tickled her nose; woodsy and warm. Well, if nothing else he smelled better than the first three. Adrian had liked cologne as well, but had worn far too much of it. Goyle had smelled like whatever he ate at his last meal. She pretty much tried to block Knott out of her memory all together.

In a Muggle suit, Severus cut a lean and somewhat dangerous figure. Both of the younger people trailed a bit behind him and watched in mild shock as more than one woman tried to approach him. And it wasn't just the prostitutes.

"You're a woman," Draco whispered in her ear, "is he considered attractive?"

Hermione considered the question honestly before whispering back, "Tall is popular with most women. And he's got a nice bum." She heard Draco make a choking sound and smirked. "You did ask."

"Something I'm regretting."

"Well, aren't you a lovely thing." A woman with far too little clothing for the temperature and far too much make for her skin to survive practically slithered herself around Draco. Her voice was rough from a lifetime of smoking. "Why don't you ditch the swot and come with me. I can make you purr."

Hermione turned to watched, amused by the look of pure horror on Draco's face as the woman trailed the long, artificial nails of one hand down the front of his shirt. It was all she could do to keep the laughter behind her teeth. Oh, for the want of a camera!

Draco was too busy trying to determine if the thing propositioning him was human or some sort of monster. Snape was a few feet ahead, his eyes scanning the street before him. Neither of them was watching Hermione when a hand shot out from the dark shadows of the nearby alley and yanked her inside.

* * *

"Well, let's have a look at you, then."

Hermione was pressed back against the rough brick wall of some random building. Her hand automatically reached for her wand, but her captor's hand got there first, clamping down around her wrist with all the strength of an iron vise.

She was taller than Hermione. That was the first thing she noticed. Then she leaned back a bit and the glow of a nearby door lamp cast illumination on her features. Hermione resembled her mother more than her father, with a nose that was just a bit too long for the shape of her face, eyes a bit too far apart and hair that was brown instead of her mother's honey blond but just as wild and frizzy. The woman looking at her was a younger version of Helen Granger… perfected. The nose was the right size for the face, the eyes were spaced just right and slightly canted to give her a hint of the exotic and the honey brown hair was a wealth of perfectly sleek, gorgeous curls. If Hermione wasn't completely straight, and looking at her sister, she might have leaned in for a kiss.

"Denise?"

"Not anymore. I haven't been called Denise since I left the Church." She took the edges of Draco's cloak and held it open. "My, but you've grown up nicely. Lovely curves. Those bastards probably toss off dreaming about burying themselves to the hilt in this tasty little body." She closed the cloak and stroked Hermione's cheek. The motion was gentle and tender. "No worries. Big Sis isn't going to let that happen.

Hermione swallowed. "So, you are the one who cursed me."

"It was the most efficient way. I considered just screwing them until I killed them, but when I saw your first fiancé," she grimaced, "neither of us should every have to lower our standards that far." She smoothed a hand over Hermione's hair. "You should look for a better conditioner, Sister Mine. Your hair is a haystack. How many so far?"

"Three."

"That's all?" She looked honestly perplexed. Her hands again opened the cloak, eyes raking over the figure underneath. "Are they blind? Do they not see you?" Hermione didn't have time to respond, because just then her sister gave a hiss and whirled to the mouth of the alley, pulling her behind her as though to shield her.

Snape came out of the shadows; just behind his shoulder was Draco. Both had their wands out and pointed towards the half-demon.

"Hello, there. Which of you is the latest bastard who thinks he can pin my sister down and slobber all over her?"

Snape arched a single brow. "Miss Blackwell, you are not an easy woman to find."

"Apparently not hard enough to find. You're here, after all. Thank you for bringing her along. I've always wanted to meet her. You can run along now. We have catching up to do."

Draco moved as if to step forward. Snape shot out his arm to block him. Hermione noticed a subtle shift in her sister's stance.

"So, you're the one. Let's have a better look at you, Blondie."

"Stay where you are, Draco."

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport. There's plenty of me to go around." She stepped away from Hermione, her movements fluid and graceful. She paced forward like some beautiful jungle cat, liquid sex in a skirt far too short for any code of decency. "Why waste your time on that child, handsome. I can show you things you never dreamed of."

Draco swallowed, hard. Even with the distance between them Hermione could tell that whatever her sister was doing was having a profound effect on him. Severus saw it as well, because the older wizard shifted so that he was between Draco and her sister.

"Oh, all right. I'll give you a ride after I'm thru with Junior back there. I've got the staying power for it."

"Denise…"

"That's not my name. I changed it."

"Then what should I call you?"

"Deamonique."

Both of Snape's brows went up this time. "Hardly subtle."

"Subtlety is overrated. And, honestly, if I'm going to be reminded every day that I'm damned by virtue of being born, I might as well own up to it. Now, why don't you step aside and wait your turn?"

"I think not. We have come here to ask that you lift the curse you placed on your sister."

Deamonique cocked her head to one side. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're killing people."

"No, I'm killing would-be rapists who think some idiotic law makes it all right to force themselves on a woman against her will. Such individuals do not qualify as 'people'." She placed her hands on her hips, her weight shifting a bit. "Come to think of it, I'm not certain the individuals who actually wrote the law should qualify either."

"I am more than happy to discuss politics with you at length. However, at this time, we are discussing your sister and her state of mind. Does it not occur to you that knowing she is the cause of their deaths may endanger her sanity?"

"Why would it?" Deamonique turned in place to look at her. "Did you want any of those men?"

"What? No! They were horrible. Well… two were horrible and the third was just pathetic. But I'm not sure the deserved to die."

"Pucey did." Draco had moved back out from behind Snape. "Everyone knows he killed that girl he married. The Ministry just doesn't want to make the family angry so they're not looking into it. Knott might have had it coming."

"Mr. Malfoy, be silent."

"And what of you, pretty boy?" Deamonique had turned her attention back to Draco. "What are your plans? Tie my baby sister down to your bed and use her at your leisure? Force her to her knees and make her suck you off if she can't accommodate you otherwise? Turn her into your personal whore?"

Draco's chin lifted a bit. "I plan to give her the full weight and protection of the Malfoy family name. Estates. Every luxury she could desire. All the prestige she would need to support her charities and projects and then some. I want her as my partner and help mate."

"Pretty words. Why didn't you ask for her first, then? You could have saved those three 'poor men'."

"We didn't know about you or the circumstances of her birth. There are those who would have killed Hermione if I had asked before. Now that we know who and what she truly is, those parties will shut up about it."

"And I meant to believe that nonsense?"

Severus again placed himself between Draco and Deamonique. "Miss, even if you do not agree with the law or Draco's reasons, is killing him before he's actually committed any crime against your sister reasonable?"

She leaned forward just a bit. "It wouldn't hit him if he didn't have every intention of carrying through with the idea. I'm protecting her from having to live with the aftermath."

"How noble of you." Snape kept himself in her direct line of vision. He needed to keep her focused on him. Finally, the cracking sounds of apparition, two of them, signaled that Draco had finally moved his arse and gotten himself and Hermione out of there.

Deamonique whirled to find her sister gone. An incoherent screech of fury ripped from her throat. Next he knew Severus was flat on his back amidst the dirt and the grit and the broken glass, a furious succubus on his chest. Her hands were on his shoulders, one knee on his stomach and, in an impossible feat of contortionism, her other foot stretched out to pin his wand hand to the ground.

"Where is she!?"

He drew in a breath, then another. It was difficult with her atop him like this. "Safe. I do believe his intentions to be sincere. He will not allow any harm to come to Hermione."

Deamonique's face lowered to just above his, nose-to-nose. He found himself looking up into a pair of eyes that were the color of fine scotch. "Where. Is. She?"

The musky scent of sex, desire and longing swirled around him. He swallowed because he has started to salivate like a dog that had caught the scent of a particularly succulent cut of meat. The silk of her hair brushed the skin at the side of his face, gentle and promising. "Away. Lift the curse."

"Why? Do you want a chance to mistreat her as well?"

"The law gives that right only to purebloods. My father was a muggle. I am under threat of the law as much as Hermione. The family of a witch could just as easily force me into matrimony. Do you not care for the wizards victimized by the law as well?"

Her weight shifted, the foot on his wrist pulling back and the knee leaving his gut. He felt her settle over his hips, the already insanely short skirt riding up. He was fairly certain she wasn't wearing knickers. Why should she? She dressed like the whores in this part of town, likely to attract the occasional nibble.

She tilted her head just enough that she could brush her lips over his. He struggled to keep his control. "Bring her back." The words were whispered into his mouth.

"No. If you're going to fuck me, do so. Otherwise get off and let me up."

The eyes were level with his again. He met her gaze, ignoring the painful state of his erection with a creature of pure sex and debauchery hovering so close to it. He saw her smile just before the scent of brimstone and jasmine enveloped them. Heat and darkness squeezed them for a moment, and then he felt himself falling deep into the softness of what was most likely a bed.

Lips claimed his, hot and hungry and full of promise. For a moment he indulged himself, letting his tongue wrap around hers and relishing the flavor of her mouth. She tasted of chocolate and just a hint of hot peppers, like the original recipe for chocolate before European nuns learned to add milk and sugar to it for a less adventurous palate. He allowed his hands to grip her by the arms to pull her closer for a moment before reversing and forcing her back.

Her breathing was more controlled than his, but he could see the desire in her eyes. "How is this, you using your nature to seduce me, how it is different from what is being forced onto those witches?"

"Because if you apply yourself, you can stop me." She licked her lips. "Do you want to stop me, Wizard?"

Did he want to stop her? It had been too long, and he had dallied with witches who were more of a threat than this creature. Logic and reason gave him an idea of her true nature. Her father's blood would give her the appetite of a succubus, but she was still half-human. Did he want her to stop?

"Severus." He pulled her back down and caught her lips with his own. He heard her chuckle deep in her throat as she returned it.

They didn't do much talking after that.

* * *

"We have to go back!"

"She clearly wasn't in the mood to listen to reason."

"Draco! You left Severus with a succubus!"

"Who happens to be your sister and the one who cursed you. Relax. Severus is very good at convincing people to change their minds."

"And if he can't. Draco, that incubus nearly killed my mother. A succubus is just the female version of an incubus. They," she flailed her hands, looking for the proper word, "screw people to death. Literally!"

"Miss Granger, Severus is a grown man." She jumped. She had not noticed Lucius present in the room when they had popped in. He was rising from a chair by the hearth and moving to a wet bar. She watched as he got out three glasses of cut crystal and a bottle of what looked like brandy. "He can handle your sister."

"And if he can't? We don't know that much about her. What if he can't handle her?"

"Well, then I suspect he will die quite happy." He offered her one of the glasses. She took it out of stunned reflex, looked at it a moment, then tossed it back like a pro. "My, I didn't expect that."

She only coughed once and declined a second drink. "My whole world has turned upside down. Everyone has gone insane. I've fallen through the looking glass."

Lucius gave his son a questioning look. "Muggle children's book. 'Alice In Wonderland'." Hermione gave Draco a stunned look and he shrugged. "I was bored and came across a copy in the library while we were in school. Interesting story. For a long time I wished for one of those cats who could talk and disappeared bit by bit until only the smile was left. That would have been fun."

"It's official now. I'm in Wonderland."

"Well, I know it likely seems that way, what with being engaged to marry me and all."

Even Lucius rolled his eyes at that one. "Draco, make yourself useful and advise the house elves we will be having a guest for dinner. And send your mother down. Miss Granger may wish something for her nerves."

"I'm fine."

"Apparently not. Please sit down, Miss Granger. Worrying yourself into a state of madness serves no one. Have faith that Severus is skilled enough and clever enough to find his way back. Your sister does not know with whom she is dealing."


	4. Chapter 4

The room was a mismatch of various baubles and knickknacks. The walls had various pictures ranging from musical bands to a chart of the periodic table. He could see two chairs that were of different design, likely scavenged from some second hand store, flanking a small table with a cheap Formica top. There was a flimsy looking desk with one of those Muggle computers and another mismatched chair. A dingy kitchenette was off to one side and he could hear water running from what was likely a shower in a bathroom he couldn't see from the bed.

The bed was the most expensive and nicest piece of furniture in the single room dwelling. Not surprising given the owner. Large and comfortable with cool, satin sheets, a good half dozen pillows and a warm coverlet. He was quite comfortable and not ready to move just yet.

Severus smirked as he looked up at the ceiling. He knew she wouldn't kill him.

The shower shut off after a time and he listened as she moved around out of sight. He wondered if she had any food. He was feeling a bit hungry after their earlier exertions.

After a time she came out of the bathroom, coming the tangles from her hair with her fingers. A short robe of scarlet silk stopped only a few inches below her pelvis, the fabric whisking over her upper thighs in little kisses. He saw her toss a damp towel into a battered hamper, her attention falling to him.

"Where did he take her?"

"Someplace safe. She may even be back in the bosom of her family by now."

He saw her eyes take a distant, faraway look for a moment before returning to herself and shaking her head. "No, she's not."

"Your connection with your mother is that strong, then."

"It always has been. I remember everything about her, all the way back to when she turned away from me."

"Does that memory anger you?"

"No. Had our roles been reversed, I would have done the same. At least by leaving me where she did, she gave me a chance. Had she turned me over to the government or tried to keep me, I likely would have fallen into the wrong hands."

Severus ran one of his arms behind him and under the pillows to lift his head a bit more. He studied her, curiously. "You seem rather… stable given the circumstances. Well, save for cursing your sister."

"I don't consider that a curse."

"What do you consider it to be, then?"

She moved like electricity unchained. One moment she was standing on the floor a good five feet from him. The next she had gotten onto the bed, standing with one foot on placed between his spread legs and the other on the side of one of his. She was perfectly balanced even as the mattress shifted to accommodate her weight. "Progressive chastity belt?"

"You believe your sister to be a virgin?"

"With that body? Doubtful. However, I have no problems with her entering a sexual relationship of her own free will. I just don't care for the idea of her being reduced to the equivalent of a brood sow."

"People usually use the word 'mare'."

"I've read your papers. Your precious Ministry would rather girls like my sister crank out babies with the efficiency of a pig rather than horse. Nature just gets in their way."

"Yes, well, the Ministry does have more than its fair share of idiots. It's the only explanation for the heavy handedness of the law."

She walked up the bed a little, the outside foot crossing in to the inside and the inside foot moving to the outside. "You don't agree with the law?"

"I told you, I'm just as vulnerable. Fortunately I taught most of the young witches approaching marriageable age and went out of my way to be a terrifying, unapproachable bastard. Doubtless they're afraid that I would make… unwholesome demands of them."

She arched one golden, perfectly shaped brow. "Really? I didn't notice anything distasteful earlier. Were you holding back on me?"

He felt his body stir as his memory called up heated kisses and slick skin. "Perhaps it is you who were holding back with me, though I doubt it."

"How so?"

"You've been here too long. Bodies of men dead from exhaustion after sexual intercourse would have drawn attention by now. You're not killing anyone. Well, except for Hermione's three bridegrooms, of course."

"How, exactly, did this law come to pass? I mean, I've read the articles and I understand the concept that you Wizards have finally realized that you can't keep marrying your cousins without it coming back to bite you, but how does that turn into forced marriages?"

"You want to discuss the finer points of magical law?"

"You did say you would be happy to discuss politics with me." She grinned and lifted one foot to run it lightly over the satin covering his hardening erection. "At. Length."

Severus took in a breath and told himself to maintain control even as he took one hand and ran it over the soft skin of her calf. "So I did. Do you wish to get into this now? I'm growing a bit hungry."

She grinned down at him, the expression impish and full of wicked thoughts. "So am I."

He found himself returning the grin. "To which appetite are you referring?"

"Which of yours would you like me to address?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say something crude and pull her down to him when his stomach spoke up first with a loud rumble. Her grin turned into an amused laugh.

"Chinese?"

"Pardon?"

"There's an all-night Chinese place around the corner that delivers."

"I shall leave the decision to the lady."

She gave another snort of laughter as she hopped off the bed and walked over to a muggle telephone. "I don't believe I've ever been called _that_ before."

* * *

"Have you been here all night?"

Hermione sat up, startled. One side of her vision was blocked by something tan and black in color. It took her a second to realize that there was a sheaf of vellum stuck to her face. She peeled it off carefully. "What?"

Draco shook his head with disbelief. "Hermione, it's almost eight in the morning. Mum had a guest room prepared for you upstairs. "

"Eight?!" She looked behind her and confirmed that it was, indeed, daylight. "I need to call my parents! They're bound to be worried."

Draco looked at her as it trying to determine if she was being serious. When he believed she was he walked over to a case on one of the book shelves and opened it to reveal a muggle phone. Hermione blinked. "Father has regular dealings with Muggle businesses and banks where we have money invested. The phone is needed to communicate with them."

"Oh." She accepted the phone and dialed her parents' number. Her mother, as she feared, had been frantic. It took a while for her to calm Helen down. Long enough that Draco was able to leave the room, call for a house elf and have a breakfast tray delivered to her. He returned to the study as she was explaining to her parents that she was going to be gone for possibly a day or more as she did some more research on her current predicament.

"How are they holding up?"

"Mum's a mess." Hermione returned the phone to its concealing cabinet. "I think this has raked up the memory of the attack again. And I suspect she feels a bit guilty about giving up her child."

"She shouldn't. A Muggle raising a half-demon? That would have been begging for trouble. She did the right thing, placing her with the Church the way she did. I shudder to think what would have happened if one of The Dark Lord's circle had gotten their mitts on her. The war likely would have ended far differently. The potion and spell potential of her blood and hair alone would have been asking for trouble."

"Yes, I'm starting to see that." Hermione frowned at the desk top filled with books, scrolls and papers. "Why does your mother have all of these? Was she serious about demonology being a staple line of study for girls in the Black family?"

"Deadly serious. Mum learned as much as she thought she needed for self-protection. She says her sister Andromeda just went through the motions until their mother let her stop. Bellatrix, however, went above and beyond. It's likely a large portion of what drove her mad."

Hermione suppressed a shudder. "I think some of these are going to give me nightmares."

"That's because you're a good and decent person." Draco took the lid off of the breakfast tray and set it aside. "Excellent. They got more of strawberry jam. Or do you prefer marmalade?"

She hadn't realized she was getting hungry. "Strawberry, please." She closed the books and scrolls and set them to one side of the desk so they wouldn't get smudged by jam or grease from breakfast. That done, she looked at the tray to find some delightful looking omelets, toast and bacon. There was also juice and milk.

Draco pulled a couple of chairs together so that they could sit for breakfast. "Normally I'd insist that we do this in a room actually meant for meals, but I wouldn't dare drag you from a research project. You might tear my arm off."

"Oh, ha-ha." She sat down and accepted a glass of juice. "What's with the civility and niceness?"

"Hermione, I have no reason not to be civil. After all, we are engaged to be wed."

"And I have a curse that will kill you."

"Only if you are not willing." He placed a slice of toast with butter and strawberry jam onto her plate. "And I intend to convince you that you do want to be married to me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm impossibly handsome, almost as clever as you and am perfectly willing to worship at the altar of Hermione Malfoy every night for the rest of my life." She arched a brow at him. "What?"

"That was unforgivably corny."

"I'll have you know that I'm completely serious about that."

She shook her head and bit into her toast. They ate in silence for a time while her mind whirred along. "What are the chances she's not lethal?"

"No idea. My mother would be better qualified to answer that question. She and Father aren't awake yet. Father doesn't stir before ten unless he has a meeting to attend and Mother doesn't stir until he does. I find it's better to let them get out of their system at home. Otherwise they may be affectionate in public which is extremely embarrassing."

"What's so bad about your parents being in love with one another? I mean, sure, you don't want them in a lip lock in the middle of Diagon Alley, but it's better than being in your room hearing them scream at one another. There are a lot of people our age in the world that grew up in broken homes, shuttled between their parents' homes with no real stability. We're fortunate to have parents who are still crazy for one another."

"I don't mind that they love one another. I just don't want to see it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're old enough to have gotten over such silliness. I have."

"How?"

"I realized that the worst public displays were them exercising their parental rights to embarrass me in public. Once I stopped complaining, they stopped being so bad about it."

"There is no parental right to embarrass your child!"

"Oh, don't be silly, Draco. Of course there is. At least for mothers. We earn it by spending hours in labor to bring you into this world." Narcissa was dressed in an elegant morning gown as she came through the open doors levitating a vase of flowers before her. "Good morning, Hermione. Oh, dear, your eyes look awful. Draco, didn't you tell her we'd prepared a room for her?"

"I did, but I thought she may want to eat first." He got up to kiss his mother's cheek. "I hadn't expected you up this early. And you don't have a right to embarrass me."

"You'll have that right as well once you have children of your own." She had the vase settle in a wide windowsill where the light would best reach the colorful blossoms. "Your father wants to see you. He's up in his parlor." She waved him away and claimed his chair for herself. A house elf popped in with a silver tray bearing a cups and a pot of coffee. "Sugar and cream?"

"Yes, please." She accepted the delicate cup of coffee with a tentative smile and thank you.

Narcissa seemed amused. "You still don't trust us."

"Well, not entirely, no. I'm sorry if you think me rude, but considering my past interactions with your family…"

"I could hardly blame you. I will admit that I, myself, allowed my thoughts of you to be colored by all of that 'pureblood' propaganda. It had been hammered into my mind since birth, after all. On that topic, at least, my sister Andromeda was far more intelligent than I. And far braver. I was horrified the day she told our parents what they could do with their money when she told them she was marrying a Muggleborn. Now that the new research has come out, with the figures and facts supporting the arguments that Muggleborns and Half Bloods are actually more likely to produce strong magical offspring than purebloods, well, it does require some reconsideration of beliefs."

"I see." Hermione examined her coffee. "It surprises me, sometimes, how the Magical world remains so far behind the Muggle one. I mean, I don't think that Voldemort," she ignored Narcissa's flinch, "or his followers ever realized that even if they had won control of the Magical world, they would have been slaughtered if they tried to take their war into the Muggle one. They outnumber us by almost six billion, and the advances they've made in science and technology would all but erase the advantages magic may give us."

Her would-be mother-in-law peered at her curiously. "How do mean?"

"I mean, they have weapons that accomplish more in one attack that his whole army could have managed in a week. One well aimed nuclear missile can kill hundreds of thousands of people at one time and I don't care how good of a duelist you are, a sniper who actually knows what he's doing can kill you with a single shot from yards away. You'd never even see him. One second you're standing there and the next you're lying on the ground with a small hole in the front of your skull and your brains blown out thru the back." Hermione shook her head. "And they've understood what the healers at St Mungo's are just now learning about genetics for decades."

"Oh." Naricissa set her cup down. "I see. I'm told that the reason that there are so few muggleborns attending Hogwarts isn't so much as the lack of their numbers, but that not all of them accept."

"I can believe that. You're sending letters to children who are only eleven. It's our parents' call as to whether or not we attend. Mine weren't entirely sold on the idea. They wanted me to continue with my regular studies. Nothing I learned at Hogwarts is transferrable to the Muggle scholastic system. I couldn't go to a Muggle university with what I learned. I'd first have to play 'catch up' with everything that I would have been taught had I continued with my Muggle education."

"What changed their mind?"

Hermione flinched at the memory. "I… uhm.. I put a couple of bullies into the hospital. They were tormenting me over being so clever. They were tying me to the frame of a jungle gym by my jumper, planning to hit at me like a piñata… a muggle toy from Mexico. It's a paper mache sculpture, usually of an animal and filled with candies. You wear a blind fold and try to hit it to break it open."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah. Anyway, I struck out with accidental magic and.. Hurt them. I believe one of them is still in a wheel chair. I broke his spine. He'll never walk again." She took in a breath. "And when Professor McGonagall came to explain Hogwarts to us, my parents realized what had actually happened. They determined that it would be better for everyone if I learned to control myself."

"The Muggle authorities didn't give you any trouble over the boys?"

"No, I was tied up and three feet from the ground at the time. Not to mention I was two years younger and considerably smaller than they. As far as anyone knew, I couldn't possibly have been the one to throw them into that building."

"You poor thing." Narcissa seemed to consider it for a time. "I suppose that I have never considered how confusing it must be for Muggleborns. It must just… sneak up on them without warning. I imagine it must be quite frightening."

"It is. At least it was for me. I suspect it feels quite exhilarating for others. Not everyone ends up hurting someone." She noticed that Narcissa had leaned back in her chair, a contemplative look on her face. "What?"

"I wonder… perhaps there should be a better sort of outreach program. For Muggleborns and their families, I mean. Surely some of the children display magic far younger than others, and it has to be confusing for them. Simply sending them a letter a few months before they're expected to attend Hogwarts can't be enough. Maybe a way to introduce them to the Magical world before just dropping them there."

"My mother thought of that. She said she thought it would be a good idea if they had a sort of sponsorship program. Pair non-magical families with a magical one who could answer their questions. The Ministry has something similar, but their horribly slow to answer."

"Anything involving government or bureaucracy is slow, Dear. They have red tape for their red tape."

"They passed the Marriage Law quickly enough."

"That was thanks to money and leverage from the right families." Narcissa topped off both of their coffees. "The first attempts by pureblood patriarchs to secure muggleborn brides for their sons didn't go so well. There are a lot of bad feelings out there. Not to mention they were quite surprised when they learned that Muggle parents weren't interested in negotiating marriage contracts."

"Such practices are a little antiquated for England. There are some countries where it's still a practice, but not here. In most 'first world' nations we young women are encouraged to make our own way in the world, including finding our own husbands."

"Oh, but that would be lovely. Be sure to stand your ground with Draco regarding your own daughters. I'll stand with you for that cause. I love Lucius, of course, madly. Sadly, there are a lot of witches in my circle that can't say the same. They tolerate their husbands because it is expected of them, but there's no love there."

"I have to ask, why the change of heart? Entirely because of how I may have been born a witch?"

"For Lucius. I would have supported the idea for my son alone. I have long suspected that most of his animosity towards you during your school years was rooted in the knowledge that he would never have been allowed to pursue you. Well, the later years of course. During those first few years he would have been a typical boy and thus lacking any real brains."

Hermione blinked at the elegant woman. Narcissa let out a peal of laughter at her expression. "Oh, my dear girl, we are both clever enough to realize that women are the true power in this world. We just let the men think they are in charge, but most decisions in politics and war are made in the bedroom. Wives and mistresses control the king. This has been true since the dawn of history and it will remain true until the end of time. And little boys rarely have any real intelligence when it comes to rational thought and common sense. That's what we are for."

She could not believe she was hearing this. This was the type of heart-to-heart conversation you had with someone who cared for you or was at least close to you. Narcissa Malfoy seemed intent on forging some type of relationship between them.

"You… you're serious. About me and Draco, I mean."

"Of course I am. I would have supported the idea even before I learned of your mother's attack. I just needed that bit of history to break thru my husband's last line of defense as well as throw off those who would attack you out of spite. There are still those who do not care for Muggleborns."

"Draco says Pucey killed his bride."

Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment. "That is the suspicion, and given the family's attitudes it is likely correct. You sister likely did Muggleborn witches everywhere a favor by killing that particular wizard. Knott wasn't much better, but he would have tired of you after forcing you into every sexual position he could think of. After that he likely would have left you alone to continue chasing everything female from here to Calais."

Hermione shuddered. "And Goyle?"

"Would have been so grateful to you for having sex with him at all that you would have had him eating out of your hand and fulfilling your every desire within a fortnight. Likely you would have been bored to tears with him in under month."

"So why Draco?"

"Because my son is likely the closest you'll find to being your equal intellectually and he needs a witch who won't let him walk all over her. It's what has made my marriage with Lucius work. If I weren't so strong a woman he would be insufferable. I assure you, as bad as he seems, were I a doormat he would be a thousand times worse. Draco is like him in that respect. He needs a wife who will keep him in line, and I believe you are the perfect woman to fill that position."

"So you are serious in this petition."

"Completely and wholeheartedly." Narcissa gave her a little smirk. "And, on the chance that Severus cannot convince your sweet sister to lift her curse, it seems my son will have to actually win your heart. Shall we make him work for it? The exercise will do him good."

"Work for it?"

"I believe Muggles refer to it as 'going old school'? I do believe it's time Draco was forced to follow some of the more antiquated courting customs of our society."

That sounded somewhat ominous. "Such as?"

"Oh, paying respects to your father. Certain gifting customs. Oh, and of course, the practice of chaperones. He'll truly hate that last one, but nothing worth winning was easy to come by." The older witch reached across the small table and patted Hermione's hand. "Don't worry, Dear. By the time you and I are through my son will not only fully admit that he is the luckiest wizard on earth should you grace him with the smallest of smiles, he will have you fully convinced that his affections are genuine and undying."


End file.
